


Jackson Square - Staring At A Painting

by Natasha09



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7289488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natasha09/pseuds/Natasha09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus and Camille's first date in New Orleans. </p>
<p>Virtual chocolate chip cookies to anyone who can spot the One Tree Hill reference.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jackson Square - Staring At A Painting

"You look beautiful, love". Klaus said as he came to halt in front of her. It was true, she was wearing a green dress that fell to her knees and hugged all her curves. He had asked her to go on a date with him and she had told him she would meet him directly after her shift.

 

"Thanks. You clean up pretty nice too". She told him with a smile that managed to light up her entire face. They were standing in Jackson Square, the place where they had their first ever conversation. Even then, he recalled, she had understood him, and yet not said a word of it. "So, where are we going?" 

 

"It's a surprise."

 

"Klaus.."

 

"Yes, Camille?" He loved saying her name, he knew she preffered Cami, but he preferred Camille.

 

"I hate surprises." He pursed his lips to suppress a smile.

 

"I assure you, love, you'll like this one." 

 

"Alright fine, lead the way." He slipped his hand into her soft one, intertwining their fingers together. He briefly wondered if he had ever trusted anyone to such a degree before.

 

They walked down the street to their destination. She was slightly behind him, not knowing where they were going. The street was filled with tourists and locals alike, painters and musicians lining the street, the smell of food in the air, the sound of jazz and people mingling around. Not for the first time, Klaus marveled at the beauty of New Orleans.

 

Slowly they started leaving most of the crowd behind and walked into a more silent place, the music and sounds of the city fading in the background. He looked at his companion to see that she was looking alternatively in front of her and above her. Then suddenly she looked at him.

 

She spoke up, her voice, like music to his ears, warming his dead heart to its very core. "You should've told me there was going to be so much walking, I wouldn't have worn heels."

 

"No need to fret love, we've reached our destination." Their destination was a garden that stood at the end of the street. He led her inside, there were lights adoring trees which flanked a footpath. At the end was a clearing where a table for two was set and waiters were milling about. That walked to the table and he pulled out her chair for her, before sitting in the chair opposite her.

 

"Wow, you've really outdone yourself, haven't you?" she said placing her hands in the table and leaning forward. He was lounging in his chair, his dirty blonde hair combed back, his leather jacket replaced by a suit, a black shirt rather than his usual t-shirt.

 

"Well, what can I say love, only the best for the first time we go out."

 

"This certainly is the best." There was a bottle of champagne in the centre of the table, which was covered in a white, silk cloth. "So, I see you've finally started taking fashion advice from Elijah."

 

He gave a slight chuckle, his dimples on full display, his blue grey eyes shining with mirth, and her insides warmed, she wished this scene would repeat over and over, because this was the Klaus she knew he wanted to become.

 

"Yes, I thought it was about time." He said jokingly, he was rewarded with a smile from her. "So, how was your day been?"

 

"The usual. How about you?" 

 

"You know, Camille", he smirked as he heard her heart speed up, "I feel we always talk about me when we meet,-"

 

"That's because we do."

 

"But you aren't my therapist today, you're my date. So, let's talk about you." It was at that time, the waiter standing near the edge of a table came with soup.

 

"You already know a lot about me." Her face held a soft smile as she spoke and he leaned forward.

 

"You know that isn't true, love. For instance, I don't even know which university you attended. You only came to town a few days before I did."

 

"I went to Stanford, actually." 

 

"I should've guessed." 

 

"Why?" The question fell from her lips, before she thought it through, it was written on her face.

 

"Well, you are intelligent." Her face flushed under his gaze and he felt his own heart beating hard, sure she knew just how clever she was. "After all, you did figure me out."

 

"I haven't". He looked into her green eyes in surprise. "You're too complicated to understand." 

 

He smirked at her proudly as if he had achieved something difficult. "A sentiment I find I can return." 

 

"Really?"

 

"You are the one of the only people, outside of my family, who has stayed after knowing everything about me. That is rather commendable, comsidering the things I have done. You know all of that, and yet you choose to stay."

 

"I stay because I see the goodness in you. More than that, I care about you." Now his heart was in overdrive, of course he knew she cared about him, she had almost died on multiple occasions just by being associated with him. He could feel the emotion building and blinked before looking away. 

 

"The soup is pretty nice. Did you compel the best staff of the city?" She did that, he realised, she changed the topic if she ever saw he was too uncomfortable but she didn't let him get away with anything she thought was wrong. No one did such simple things for him anymore.

 

"Actually, I haven't. I, of all people know your distaste of compulsion. I can still feel the sting of your slap."

 

"Well, you were an ass. Besides, you had told me you had just killed someone."

 

"Well, to be fair, it was Elijah who had killed Agnes. After all, she was responsible for your brothers death, not to mention she had just attempted to kill my daughter."

 

"I didn't know that then. And still, it wasn't justice."

 

"Are we really going to talk about justice over dinner."

 

"Your the one who brought up death. What about the chef?"

 

"He, unfortunately, has been compelled. But not by me."

 

"Then who compelled him?"

 

"Kol." At her blank look, he elaborated. "Apparently his pesky witch loved his food. So Kol compelled him for me."

 

"So basically, Kol gave you dating advice?" He laughed at the look on her face as their soups were taken away.

 

"Just because he wants me dead doesn't mean he isn't my brother, love."

 

"Wow. You daggered him for centuries and then you just went for dating advice to him."

 

"I know. Just how insensitive can I be?" She laughed, but then turned serious.

 

"No, just that after everything you've done to each other, you're can still act like that around each other." Klaus lost himself for a moment, they were having a casual conversation, as casual as it could get for them, and she still had him figured. "God, I thought topics for a first date are supposed to be light, I'm so sorry."

 

"There's no need for apologies love. So, tell me; what do you plan to do after your graduation?"

 

"Work, I guess. And charge my clients." She added jokingly, and Klaus' smile got wider.

 

"And how much are you planning to charge me?" He realised his timing was horrible when their waiter placed their food. Camille's face was now red from embarrasment and Klaus wondered if he should just kill the waiter for the obviously derogatory thoughts he was probably thinking about Camille, before he left.

 

"That got awkward fast, didn't it?"

 

"Rather. Well, bon appétit." Dinner was pleasent, they spoke about her dream to have her own practice, his plans for his daughter and his brief meeting with Hitler.

 

"And you didn't kill him? Out of all the people Klaus." He gave her a bright smile as if they were talking about him forgetting a an important date.

 

"You think I should've killed him?"

 

"No, but you should have brought him to justice. You could've easily done it." 

 

"Yes, but you see, I had met him before the first world war. I didn't know he would end up surpassing me in the complicity of his plans for global domination." She suppressed a smile and shook her head. 

 

"Who else did you meet?"

 

"Well, let's see, there's Shakespeare-"

 

"Bet you both got along really well, didn't you? All that drama."

 

"Yes, we rather did actually. But my favourites were the artists. Van Gogh was rather impressive."

 

"You really made the best of life, didn't you?" 

 

"Why not?" She was smiled and shook her head. They were soon done with dinner, and the waiter was back, asking if they wanted dessert.

 

"You have ice creams, don't you?" Klaus' homicidal impulses were coming into play; the waiter looked at Camille so disdainfully that Klaus had the urge to rip out his intestines before killing him. "Great, I'll have a Mint Chocolate Chip, what about you Klaus?" 

 

"You can order for me, love."

 

"Oh, alright, he'll have a Rocky Road." The waiter was gone, leaving them in comfortable silence. "Are you really going to think about killing him while I'm still sitting in front of you?"

 

"Why shouldn't I? Who knows what unsavoury things he's thinking about you right now? I'll-"

 

"Klaus, just calm down, alright? You can't just threaten and think about killing someone over a misunderstanding, alright?" She was looking at him warmly, yet her eyes were filled with determination. He had seen enough wars to know the battle was lost.

 

"If that's what you want. So, how long is it until you graduate?" He asked, changing the subject. She hesistated but acquiesced, answering his question.

 

"A couple of months. I actually can't wait for it."

 

"No, I don't suppose you can." The waiter was back, this time with their ice creams and Klaus asked him to bring the bill soon. His ice cream was good, but the moan that was made by his companion was sweeter than it. Klaus wondered if he should just take her to the compound with him, but berated himself, he still had somewhere to take her. He generally didn't eat ice cream, but she had wanted it and he supposed it wasn't that bad. They were done soon and that left the garden, walking back to the street.

 

"So, what next?" She asked. 

 

"Well, we could just walk around. But only if your comfortable."

 

"Yeah, I don't mind." He grasped her hand again, he was revelling in the newfound freedom to do this. They walked around aimlessly for sometime before they reached Jackson Square again. "You know this is the place where we first had a conversation."

 

"It is. Your analysis of the tortured artist was rather...personal."

 

"Yeah, but I was talking about him, not you. I didn't know anything about you apart from the fact that you were the hundred dollar guy." They stopped in front of a painter who was at work and Klaus was hit with nostalgia.

 

"Camille, the brave bartender." He looked at her, she was standing close to him, she smelled of caramel and roses, a smell he had come to associate with her since they first met. 

 

Her eyes were vulnerable and he knew, she too, was thinking how far they had come from that first night, almost two years ago. He knew he mirrored her expression as they both leaned forward. Nothing was stopping them now, not Dahlia or Marcel or Lucien or Aurora. It was just the two of them as he finally kissed her. 

 

It started slowly, he poured in all of the feelings he knew he was too damaged to tell her of. His hands found her waist as he deepened the kiss. It was heaven, he had wondered for the last two years, what it would feel like and now he knew. For the first time in a long time, he felt at peace, a feeling he rarely experienced, and off late, whenever he did, it was either with Camille or Hope. 

 

And yet, something was wrong, the sounds were fading, the smell becoming weaker, the lights dimming. He pulled back and she smiled at him and yet everything was gone. The painters, the stalls, the hotels, the music everything and suddenly, there was blood sprouting from Camille's neck.

 

"Klaus? Klaus what'a happening?" 

 

"Camille..." He tore his sleeves off and bit into his arm. She couldn't die, he hadn’t told her he loved her yet. He pressed his arm to get mouth but her room was greying, the viens of her face visible. "No, no, Camille." And suddenly everything dissolved around him and when he opened his eyes, he saw darkness. 

 

He had been dreaming. It happened often these days, when the agony from the dagger buried in his chest was too much to bear, his mind made up reprieves for him to visit. They included simpler times with his family, dreams of what his daughter would look like and Camille.

 

Camille was dead. She had died. He never had the chance to take her out, they were never in a relationship, he only kissed her once and that was the exact number of times he had professed his love for her. He had killed Lucien, the man responsible for killing her and yet, it didn't make him feel better because she was still dead.


End file.
